CHAPTER 1 - The last good years

[tomcat]

YEAR 2947 T.A.

And so it came to pass, with the demise of Smaug the Golden and the expulsion of the Necromancer from Southern Mirkwood, that a period of relative peace fell on the forest. The shadows retreated to the darkest corners and Men, Dwarves, and Elves were once more able to move throughout with little fear. It was as if Mirkwood Forest had awoken again after a great period of winter and all of its inhabitants welcomed the new day.

It was Ceawin the Generous, son of Cayl, who in the first days of Spring called for the first Folk-moot since Erebor had fallen to the dragon. From his villages in the East Bight, the leader of those Free Peoples sent forth messengers to all of the realms of Mirkwood, save the south where the Shadow of Dol Guldur lingered, with invitation for the leaders of each realm to come to Rhosgobel. The folk of the East Bight having the safety now to grow and build anew wished an alliance with the Woodmen of western Mirkwood, Dale,  Dorwinion, and also with the Dwarves of Erebor. Messengers were sent, too, to the Woodland Realm of Thranduil though it was unknown whether or not the Silvan Elves would hear the plea of these Men of the south.

With flowers blooming across the Mirkwood expanse, a quiet fell upon its people as they awaited to hear whether their leaders would travel, or send envoys in their name, to the land of Radagast the Brown to sit  amongst this circle of neighbors and see if the whole of Mirkwood might be united.


Our story begins.

I am not sure if I am going to have you guys start in your individual homelands or at the Folk-moot. I still need to see who is from where. So, I will leave this until we get the PC's up and posted.

As for game mechanics, I am still on the learning curve, so we will go at an easy pace to start. Tom, you are a TOR player so feel free to chime in with help as it is needed.

Let's have a blast!  

[tomcat]

The smell of smoke hung in the moist air, as fires sputtered from the light rain that fell. Men and women-folk sat around cook fires while rabbits, or other catches, sizzled on spits. The men spoke in low voices, puffing on pipes as they did, seeming hushed by the gloomy weather. The gathering was formed in a circle around which were the many camps of the envoys from the different regions where word had been sent. Tent-town was what the congregation was being named and it swelled larger with each week that passed as more travelers arrived.

A better part of the first month of Spring had passed since Ceawin had sent forth his summons. With the aid of Radagast the Brown, the word was carried by wing and foot to the far north of Mirkwood. The message was received by the King in Erebor, the men of Dale, and even to the lands of Dorwinion. Other envoys were sent to the lands of the Woodmen along the western eaves of Mirkwood, and many of the clans responded as evidenced by the growing size of Tent-town.

The news of the Folk-moot did not only bring those that were intended, but merchants and traders also followed the caravans as they moved south, east, or west towards Rhosgobel. It became evident that the gathering needed better leadership, as Ceawin was for the most part unknown to the men of Woodland Hall and Woodmen-town, though they were akin. So it was Ingomer, of the House of Woodland Hall that took up the mantle of head of the council of elders. He saw to the organization of Tent-town and the encampments of each traveling clan. Laws were set by the council, for though this was a Folk-moot to debate the needs of the Woodmen of Mirkwood, there were still troubles that existed between the clans and not a few bouts were seen. Weapons were ordered to be carried only at need and only by those that were on station as sentries. This limited the fights to nothing more than fistacuffs and only wounded egos were the victims.

Ceawin and his company had been the first to arrive in Rhosgobel when the winter was finally releasing its grip on the forest. They had traveled the narrows of Mirkwood to the western eaves and brought tales both fearsome and enlightening. A gloom still clung to the southern end of the forest – those woods that surrounded Dol Guldur – and his people were afraid to move in that direction. Great spider webs and the remains of animals were seen at times wrapped within the trees. Other fears followed due to the legends of vampires and werewolves that were said to haunt the forest.

Though a seeming perilous journey, Ceawin and his folk had arrived safely and settled the first part of Tent-town. Through March and April, the other folks came and were coming still. From Mountain Hall came old and quarrelsome Hartfast, son of Hartmut. He led thirty of his clan out of the Misty Mountains and over the Anduin to bring both tidings and to be part of the debate. Fridwald the Runner came from Woodmen-town; Amaleoda, shieldmaiden of the Black Tarn came west with her folk; Targus, son of Feoll, came from Stoneyford; Bofri, son of Bofur, of Erebor was present though it had not yet been revealed if he was there as envoy for Dáin Ironfoot, King under the mountain; Orophin of the Silvan Elves and Thranduil's people; Grimbeorn of the Beornings; and so on. Even a Hobbit from the Shire-lands, far away, was present again in Mirkwood, though it was not the Folk-moot that had brought him so far afield. Still, the many clansman marveled at the young Hobbit and there was much laughter as Bandy would walk-about telling his tales. Last on the list, but certainly not the least was the mysterious wizard, Radagast the Brown. The Folk-moot was being held within the bounds of his lands, but he had yet to make any counsel to those that had gathered.


Bandy sat by one of the smouldering fires, which stayed alive due to the kindling that crackled around the thicker logs, but still the smoke from it filled the circle of log seats. He watched as a brace of coneys sizzled and darkened and his mouth watered. The young Hobbit found within the camp of Woodmen that it was the skills that you brought, not the coin in your purse that would get you fed here. Many times he had experienced what he thought as rude behavior from the large men who would not accept a coin for a leg of meat, or a cup of drink. Instead, the men would laugh and croak for him to go hunt his own food. Now he was enthralled by the two rabbits cooking, due to the pangs of hunger that raged within his stomach. Fortunately for the Hobbit, he had a stake in this meal after finally finding a friend who assisted in his procuring of food.

The youth on the opposite side of the fire, who slowly turned the spits, was named Arbogast. He was of Woodmen-town and had come to the Folk-moot in the company of Fridwald the Runner. His sire, Arbodag, had sent his son south to Rhosgobel so that he could bear witness to the councils of clans, and for the young man to be tested in any and all matters that related to the survival of Woodmen-town. Arbogast was quiet, where Bandy was as talkative as any good-natured Hobbit, and the young man would sit and listen to the stories that Bandobras Bracegirdle would weave of lands across far away mountains that rose to reach the mists in the sky.

All around them, other folk sat in the common ring of cook fires and spoke amongst themselves. Orophin of the Silvan Elves was a wonder for many to behold, even more so than the Hobbit, but yet he was visited by only a few. The superstitions of the Woodmen kept them at a distance to the Elf, though he was friendly to all. It was Grimbeorn who also sat alone that was more withdrawn than any other. The son of Beorn, who was a legend in the region, was a grim, opposing figure and he received the same attention as Orophin.

The companions' quiet thoughts were interrupted as Freda, daughter of Fridwald, and Munderic, her cousin, approached. The girl was tall and thin, with auburn hair that hung in two braids to her shoulders. She had eyes that twinkled with the light of day and she made Arbogast stammer a hello at her arrival. If she heard him, she did not seem to notice. Instead she spoke over him, "My father has an errand that needs done. The Tent-town has filled so and the game in the local area of the forest has been shied away. He sent me to tell you to gather those that will accompany you and set out on a hunt. It would do well for our clan to have a deer brought down. Can you do that?"

Bandy looked at Freda, and then to Arbogast, and he wondered if he, too, would need go on this hunt, and would he be able to enjoy some of the beautiful rabbits that now sizzled over the fire.

[Bandobras]

Bandy's heart sinks when he hears Freda's request. "I'll  not be having first or second breakfast at this rate," he grumbles, puffing away harder on his pipe. "Adventures are uncomfortable things." Surveying the strange faces of Tent-town, he feels more alone than since he left the Shire. The laughter that greeted his lame efforts to buy a meal still stings. He is thankful that Arbogast, quiet though he is, seems open to friendship. "Songs and stories will only get me so far around here," he mutters to himself.  "I'll have to pitch in and do my share." Noticing that the Elf Orophin and the Beorning Grimbeorn looked as lonely and out of place as himself, Bandy wonders if the outsiders might find companionship with each other. Nervous about approaching one the Fair Folk and the son of Beorn, Bandy leans toward Arbogast and whispers "I think I'll join this hunting expedition. We hobbits are pretty good shots, and I fear I need to prove myself with this lot to make up for my rough start. Will you join me? Maybe I can return the favour," he says jabbing his pipe stem at the roasting rabbits Arbogast had caught earlier. "Let's invite Orophin and Grimbeorn to join us. They look as miserable as I feel and they may like having something to do."

[Eclecticon]

Arbogast nods slowly as he thinks.  There is no question of him not going on the hunt - he has been asked to by a pretty girl, and could no more refuse to go than the snow could refuse to melt in spring.  Rather, he thinks about the odd fellowship that the Hobbit proposes.  He is no great hunter himself, and his would-be dining companion seems ill-prepared for such a venture.  Still, he has heard marvellous tales of the Elves' prowess with their hunting bows, and the stony-faced Beorning is an unknown quantity. 

In the end, he nods again (more decisively) stands and fetches his axe and shield.  It is a pity, he thinks that no-one here is likely to lend me a spear.  My uncle bore this axe well, but it will serve me little for chasing deer!

Out loud, he muses "I have overheard the local folk talking of a nearby stream, seldom visited even by them.  That may be an opportune place to begin our hunt." 



It probably doesn't matter, but in case it's relevant: I'm invoking Arbogast's Mirkwood Lore trait to suggest a good starting point. 

[GandalfOfBorg]

Ever since Grimbeorn arrived with the envoy in tow, the people about him looked upon him either in awe or wary.  He was in no way unfriendly to allies but his bearing and gruff (and notably rough) exterior are outputting.  Soon he found himself by himself on opposite sides of a campfire from an elf of the Woodland Realm.  He and his father had dealings with them from time to time regarding trade or the safety of the north path of Mirkwood that ends at the Forest Gate.  Not known for being overly talkative, he sat there in silence, brooding over the fire.

Hearing the Hobbit grumble, he smirked ever so slightly -- it reminded him of the story his father told him of the one that came to his home years ago when he was young for Grimbeorn had been off with his mother to visit her folk at the time.  The request for help did not go unnoticed and as he was restless to do something.  Young though he was, he was nigh the stature of his father and the look.  Standing and stretching, the Beorning youth towered over Arbogast as he came forth.  "My axe is ready."

[Bandobras]

"The stream is as good a place as any to begin if we can locate it." Bandy immediately regrets his decision to join the hunting party. I can shoot an arrow straight and true when I have a mellon for a target but I am no tracker or hunter. And how will I keep apace with the Big Folk? Well, what is done is done. I'm in over my head no doubt, but I'll have to make the best of it.

Trying to muster more confidence than he feels, Bandy turns to the Beorning, saying "And I shall join if you will have me. I may be small but you will find me useful. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Bandobras Bracegirdle but that is a mouthful. My friends call me Bandy. I hail from Harbottle. Perhaps you have heard of it ... in the Northfarthing ... of the Shire? And this," Bandy turns to Abrogast, "is my sturdy Woodman friend Abrogast."
   

[tomcat]

It probably doesn't matter, but in case it's relevant: I'm invoking Arbogast's Mirkwood Lore trait to suggest a good starting point.

No, it matters. Arbogast will have a feel for the forests seasons, where the bucks have been known to rut, etc. He might not be the greatest hunter, but he knows his woods. So, be creative with your forest knowledge as you please - but within reason  . LOL! I feel like the guy that keeps handing the keys to the car, but then says, "Don't drive it anywhere."

I see some of your PC's have bow skills, but might not have a bow on their person - there are plenty within Tent-town that are available for you guys to hunt.

[GandalfOfBorg]

"Over your head no doubt," snorts Grimbeorn, looming over the halfling.  "I am Grimbeorn.  I've hunted plenty -- a deer is no challenge.  But if you are to join, enough of this idle chatter lest you like your stomach be louder than your mouth."

Grimbeorn invokes his Beast-lore for hunting.

[Bandobras]

"Come  Grimbeorn, mine is not the only empty stomach in Tent-town. Together let us go forth and bring back meat that will lighten the mood. Yet more than a sharp axe and steady hands are needed to bring down a deer. We need an archer. I will invite the elf to join us."

Turning away from Grimbeorn, Bandy addresses Orophin. "Good Elf, you have a fine bow and I doubt not a keen eye. Will you join us in the hunt? As you and I are the only representatives of our kindred here, it might be pleasant to pass the time in each other's company. I am much interested in any news from the Woodland Kingdom."

[Stefan]

Orophin grins broadly at the hobbit.

"I've been listening to your stories my friend.  These folk may not see the value in them, but I'll be glad to trade my skill with a bow for the mirth you bring with the telling of your tales.

He then leans down to whisper conspiratorially in the hobbit's ear.

And have no fear, I've been in the company of men often of late, they all act this way when met with something outside their ken.  It's a burden only for a short time, till they become more accustomed to our presence."

I thought I read in the book somewhere that if you have skill with a weapon that you start the game with that weapon.  Meaning, that if one has at least one point of skill with the bow, he or she should have a bow to begin the game. I may have misunderstood, or perhaps that was a character decision.

[Bandobras]

"You are kind and gracious and make me feel welcome. Until now I have not been further than Bree where the big folk are used to Hobbits. The men here are stout-hearted but grim. I shall heed your advice and judge neither too soon nor too harshly." Picking up his quiver and bow, Bandy adds, "Fortunately you need not give up your bow as a light heart makes easy work. Let us answer Freda's call." He slings his bow while humming a jaunty tune.

[tomcat]

Awesome posts, guys! I will update tonight.

[Stefan]

Orophin stands and, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the din of conversations, announces his intentions to join the hunt.

"My new friend and I would love to go hunting. My bow is at your service, lady Freda."

[Bandobras]

Bandy bows low.

[Eclecticon]

As the impromptu fellowship makes its way out of Tent Town, Arbogast keeps one ear on his companions and another on the forest around them.  As the smell of cooking fires fades, he lets his lungs fill with the earthy, springtime scents of this wholesome part of the great wood.  He follows small cues - hints of fresh water on the air, declines in the land and slight snatches of trickling sounds, towards the hidden spring.  All the while, he keeps alert for signs of game passing nearby. 

A hunting roll turns up: This dice roll has been tampered with!
Rolled 1d6 : 1, total 1 This dice roll has been tampered with!
Rolled 1d6 : 2, total 2 This dice roll has been tampered with!
Rolled 1d12 : 3, total 3

EDIT: I'm guessing the tampering notifications relate to the preview I called up - I've not used this kind of die roller before, so I wanted to check that I'd used the right formatting.